


Tell Me a Story

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-01
Updated: 2009-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-15 22:32:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8075371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: Post Ep to The Expanse, Pre Ep to The Xindi. It's the calm before the storm in The Expanse, and Trip can't sleep. He notices that it has been two years since T'Pol was assigned to the ship. Canon friendly TnT story. Mostly just fluff with a dash of angst.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Disclaimer: Paramount owns everything.
> 
> Author’s Note: Instead of writing Chapter 12 of Family Secrets, I wrote this missing scene in response to the September word challenge at TriS, which is Anniversary. It is a post ep to The Expanse, and it can also be viewed as a prequel scene to Family Secrets because this incident now MUST show up in that story eventually.
> 
> It's helpful if you've seen "Carbon Creek" to understand this.
> 
> Rating: PG-13 but just for language, a wee bit of angst and drinking

Since the encounter with the Klingons a week earlier, the shipâ€™s corridors felt unnaturally silent. Footsteps seemed to echo, and even conversation appeared to be minimal. Everyone had expected, once they had entered the space known as the Expanse, that disaster would strike immediately. Instead, something worse had happened. _Nothing_ had happened.

Trip stared up at the ceiling of his quarters. He had spent all day in engineering making sure not a single conduit needed replacing and that the warp core was functioning optimally. His crew checked and double checked everything, and then he triple checked their work. Anything to keep from having to be where he was at the moment, alone in his quarters with nothing to think about but his sister and the seven million other people who no longer existed because some god damned race of unknown aliens.

Trip closed his eyes and imagined a different time, before the attack. That very existence felt dreamlike to him, as if it may not have been real. The rage and pain had so overtaken him, he couldnâ€™t even picture what his life had been like just weeks ago. He wished to hell he could sleep, but the restlessness that was a byproduct of rage prevented that.

I never thought Iâ€™d envy the Vulcans their emotionless lives, he thought.

From there, his mind wandered to a particular Vulcan. He hadnâ€™t discussed it with the Captain, but he knew it had been a huge friggin deal that Tâ€™Pol had stayed aboard the ship. Just the fact that she was no longer wearing her High Command uniform said as much.

What a difference two years makes.

His mind raced back to the previous year and the lively anniversary dinner Archer had thrown for Tâ€™Pol, when she had told the tall tale about her foremother making first contact in Pennsylvania. That had been a year ago. 

Trip sat up and looked at the date. It had been exactly a year ago. To the day.

He sighed. No celebrations this year. No conversation. No wine. No. . .

_No. No, thatâ€™s not how it should be._

He reached into the cabinet under his bed. There wasnâ€™t much there, certainly no wine. But he did have a few bottles of Irish Ale heâ€™d gotten when visiting his brother in Ireland. Luckily, this stuff is best served warm.

He walked over to his console and tapped a message for the newly-monikered Commander Tâ€™Pol. In it, he asked her to stop by his quarters if she was awake. Moments later, she texted back that she would arrive soon.

He pulled out two glasses and waited, hoping she wouldnâ€™t get the wrong impression. It was just that somebody ought to remember her anniversary.

The door chime rang.

â€œCâ€™mon in,â€ he said.

She entered, wearing the bright blue uniform. Some Starfleet bureaucrat had decided that while an alien was welcome to serve as an officer on a human ship, she shouldnâ€™t wear a human style uniform. In lieu of her Vulcan uniform, Tâ€™Pol had taken to wearing a series of brightly colored Vulcan catsuits that had been part of her civilian wardrobe but had a definite official feel to them.

He examined at her face, and her hair, which she had begun fixing differently. Somehow, since shedding her association with the High Command, she appeared - if it was possible - happier. Maybe it was just the hair. Or maybe it was the relief of no longer serving two masters that was showing in her face.

Never thought sheâ€™d choose us, thought Trip.

â€œEvening, Commander,â€ said Trip as he gestured to the bottles and glasses set up on his desk, â€œI hope you donâ€™t think Iâ€™m being too presumptuous, but I noticed it was your anniversary. I think the captainâ€™s a little preoccupied to celebrate, but I thought youâ€™d wanna know that someone remembered that youâ€™d been with us two years.â€

Tâ€™Pol glanced at the chronometer.

â€œYou are correct. Itâ€™s still the anniversary of my posting to Enterprise for another hour.â€

â€œAll I have is beer and water . . .if you want something else. . .we can head down to the mess hall . . .â€

â€œNo,â€ she said, â€œThis will be adequate. What is it?â€

â€œBeer. Irish Ale to be exact. A gift from my brother Iâ€™ve been savinâ€™ for a special occasion,â€ said Trip as he poured less than half the bottle in her glass.

She sat down in one chair, and he in the other.

â€œThank you,â€ she said, taking the glass.

She looked at him with an expression that he didnâ€™t quite recognize. It was something other than her usual neutrality, but what it was he had no idea. Maybe she too was rattled by all the silence, in her Vulcan way. He had heard what had happened to the previous Vulcan ships that had entered this part of space.

He poured himself a more generous glass and held it aloft.

â€œHappy Anniversary. For what itâ€™s worth, Iâ€™m real glad youâ€™re still aboard. I hope you donâ€™t come to regret staying with us.â€

They clinked glasses. He gulped down about of third of his, while she took a tentative sip of hers.

â€œItâ€™s bitter,â€ she said.

â€œThat it is. Itâ€™s an acquired taste. You donâ€™t have to finish it. . .â€

â€œNo,â€ she said, â€œI shall endeavor to acquire the taste. Itâ€™s quite complex and layered.â€

They drank in silence for a few moments.

â€œIt is late for a human to be still awake. Especially since I saw you in engineering at 0700 hours,â€ she said.

â€œI havenâ€™t been able to sleep lately. I think if this continues Iâ€™ll probably got to Phlox for something. We canâ€™t have a sleep-deprived chief engineer - not now.â€

Tâ€™Pol said nothing.

â€œSo, any more stories about your Vulcan ancestors you want to tell?â€

Tâ€™Pol sipped her beer, still very slowly.

â€œNot this year. Perhaps youâ€™d like to tell me a story,â€ she said.

Trip sighed. He was hardly in the frame of mind to tell her story, but he didnâ€™t want her to leave yet because he couldnâ€™t stand the idea of being alone with his thoughts. He also didnâ€™t need Malcolm or some other well-meaning human trying to get him to talk about Elizabeth. Tâ€™Pol, who would never ask him about his feelings, was the perfect companion for his current mood. She also didnâ€™t need nearly as much sleep as a human, so he figured it wouldnâ€™t be rude to keep her up for another hour or so.

â€œAll right,â€ he said, â€œlet me tell you about an adventure one of my ancestorâ€™s had a few hundred years ago. . .â€

Soon, both of them had lost track of the hour. Trip, during those moments forgot about Elizabeth and forgot that he couldn't sleep. She seemed genuinely interested in his tale, nodding and raising an eyebrow when appropriate. Finally, when the ale was gone and the story complete, she got up to leave.

â€œI do think that, despite his crimes, this Indian Joeâ€™s punishment was quite gruesome.â€

â€œInjun Joe,â€ corrected Trip, â€œThe colloquial spelling is important, and it was a brutal time in Earth history.â€

â€œI also think it was very coincidental that he and his companion stumbled upon the hidden gold,â€ said Tâ€™Pol.

â€œIt was,â€ said Trip with a grin.

â€œYou also never told me which of the two boys was your forefather,â€ said Tâ€™Pol.

â€œGuess,â€ said Trip.

Tâ€™Pol thought for a moment.

â€œIt was undoubtedly Tom,â€ said Tâ€™Pol.

Their eyes met. He saw something there, in her eyes. The very subtle Vulcan sense of humor, if you could call it that.

â€œHappy Anniversary, Commander,â€ said Trip.

â€œThank you, Commander,â€ replied Tâ€™Pol formally. She restrained herself from pointing out that it was no longer her anniversary, because humans were just imprecise that way.

As she headed for her quarters, she resolved to wait for just the right moment to tell him about the American literary text which was used in her advanced English-dialect class. Although, she thought carefully, it wasnâ€™t at all implausible that the story was based on one of the Commanderâ€™s ancestors. _Perhaps he had been telling the truth._


End file.
